


Oceans

by lizziecrowe



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Angst, First Times, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 10:38:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/797586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizziecrowe/pseuds/lizziecrowe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>We sailed on together, we drifted apart, and here you are by my side.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oceans

## Oceans

#### by Miraden

Author's website: <http://www.geocites.com/silverpheonixscion>  
Not mine. Just bringing them out to play for a bit.  
  
Sentinel part 1 & 2, spoiler, but not much more.  
This story is a sequel to: 

* * *

Oceans. As vast and deep as any man can fathom. Yet not so much as one can feel. 

Jim looked so peaceful. He always looked peaceful when he slept, a concept Blair had become intimately familiar with over the last three years. It had started out as a simple need to know that he wasn't alone. A nightmare, a vision he didn't want invading either his sleeping or waking mind. And the sight of Jim in repose had adequately served as Blair's mental floss. 

And then he'd been left in the wake of one Naomi Sandburg. Again. 

And Blair had made a personal habit of softly creeping into Jim's room at night just to see him, to wipe away the image of his mother and Jim eating ox tongue on Jim's bed. Jim's bed, which was probably the one and only place Blair knew he would never venture, and his mother had quite ceremoniously danced over that boundary. Like she knew a boundary from a broomstick. 

The days had passed into weeks, and seeing Jim every night, there in his bed, sound asleep, had served as a welcome sight. A reminder that Jim had not left, had not kicked him out. He hadn't even sided with the woman who had called him a `pig' just for his profession. Jim had stayed, and their lives had reverted to normal. Well, as normal as a hyperactive anthropologist and a stiff-assed cop with heightened senses could get in the same house. 

And then Alex Barnes killed him. 

Just the thought of it made him dizzy and sick, but seeing Jim, seeing his Blessed Protector before him, just within reach, made it better. Made everything better. Calmer. Safer. And so here he was, again, Blair Sandburg, at the edge of a cliff he had no right to even be near, at the edge of a bed, at the edge of a line he knew he could never cross. But that didn't mean he couldn't look. 

And look he did. Look and feel the soft bedding against his legs. So much of this moment he had no right to feel, no right to even know, and yet here he was, warming himself off another man's fire. 

But that man was Jim Ellison, and here he was, stretched out and still, a perfect study of silent strength in miniature. 

Blair couldn't hope to hold back the deep burn in his eyes. The moonlit vision before him became blurred as the tears streaked slow paths down his face, and he couldn't be happier. This was the one lie he could not live. He could play the knowing college professor. He could play the wide-eyed student. He could play the caring partner, the concerned roommate, the best friend. He could be the Guide to this behemoth of a Sentinel. 

But this one truth he could not ignore nor escape from, anymore than he could hide who he was. Or how much the man asleep before him, just within reach, had come to mean in the pathetic excuse of a life he had. 

"I can't help it. I just can't." And in that moment, Jim knew what real panic felt like. He knew that Blair was there, as he was every night right around this time, watching him. He'd thought it was simply a Guide thing, or perhaps a best friend thing, and he was cool with that. He didn't mind really, which stunned him. Others had done this before, his father, his fellow soldiers, but they hadn't done it for long. A good solid reaming from a very irate James Ellison would deter most activities, of that he knew. 

But this, this was nice. Comforting. Hell, the nights that Blair didn't do this, Jim would send down his hearing and his sense of smell to ensure that nothing was wrong. It was the perfect way to mess with his Guide, knowing when he was sick even before Blair felt the symptoms. 

But now those same senses were sending up the most dreaded of alarms. Blair was crying. He could smell the tears, hear the choked back sobs. Almost feel the heartbeat trying so hard to slow down and failing. 

"Forgive me..." 

Blind panic. Blair was leaving. Goddess help him, Blair was going to leave him. Why would Blair do that? What had he done? What could- 

"I love you, Jim." What. The. FUCK. And in one deep breath Jim knew everything Blair was feeling, just from the harsh myriad of his Guide's scent. So much pain, so much passion, fear, sorrow, joy... "Never felt so fucking much..." 

And then he was gone, retreated to his own room to let his tears play out, each one wrenching at my heart. And I couldn't move. If I had, what good would it have done? How could I explain myself? How could I tell him I'd known he was coming to my room at night and never said anything? 

I wanted to reach out to him so badly it still hurts to this very moment. I still want to reach out to him, not just to touch him but to feel him. I touch him every day, every chance I get, but I so rarely feel him. My fingers graze his skin, but he still feels too far away. Like touching the glass of an aquarium. I can feel the cold water flowing behind, but I never get wet. I want to get wet. I want to dive head first into his ocean and stay there, wrapped up in him, tangled in every part of him. Like he is in me. 

Even now I can sense him, flowing through my veins like he belongs there. Does he? It's so crazy, but I'm so sure that if I cut myself right now, I would bleed his scent. Gods above, what has he done to me? The better question is: do I want it to stop? Saying yes would be a lie, and any other answer is just stupid scary... 

Jim set the pen down next to the now closed journal, still shaking slightly from the knowing words now on paper. He could still smell the tears of his Guide as if they were fresh upon his own skin, hear Sandburg's stuttered words upon a haggard voice ringing inside him. Blair loved him. What the hell was he going to do? 

* * *

"Morning, Jim." Jim froze for a surprisingly long second before resuming his morning breakfast duties. Bacon and eggs, and an algea protein shake for Blair, especially after last night. 

Last night. What the hell was he going to do? 

"Morning, Chief. Better make it a quick shower. We're due in just a little while." 

"Right," the younger man managed through a yawn. 

And so it went. The day was alarmingly normal, from the simple interrogations to the footwork to the paperwork, everything went as it would on any typical day, and it was slowly driving Jim insane. How could Blair be so calm? So casual! Like nothing had even happened! But then, he'd been doing that for a while, hadn't he? Blair had started coming to his room some time ago. A couple years, in fact. But had Blair always cared for him so? Had he just not seen it? 

Great. That was just fucking perfect. There he was, sitting across from Jim's desk like he always did, feeling something Jim could only fantasize about, acting like nothing in the world was wrong. 

And he was right. Because this was so far removed from simply wrong that Jim managed to achieve complete uselessness a good thirty minutes before Blair noticed. And promptly ushered them both out the door for the end of a truly boring day, so he said. 

They grabbed dinner on the way home, Thai, and made their way home in their usual quiet fashion. Good grief, how had Blair survived so long in this silence? For once, Jim was the one who couldn't sit still as he unloaded their various packages of dinner. 

"So, Chief, I wanted to tell you something." 

"Yeah, what's up?" Gods, he sounded so cheerful, so curious. So normal. Did Jim really want to do this? Did he have the right? 

"I'm glad I decided to let you stay." Blair froze as his heart fell into his stomach and stayed there. Oh no, no not this. Not the domineering, all-suffering martyr act. Not again. Not today. Please Gods, not today, not after... 

"I am, too." 

"After all, couldn't have my Guide living on the street somewhere. Having to deal with your shampoo is ok, but I think I'd have to brave my senses on my own if you couldn't bathe regularly. Besides, your hair gets really weird if it doesn't get washed every day." And it always smelled so good. Soft, light to the touch... 

"So what, you're taking me in was out of some kind of pity?!" Jim blinked owlishly. Whoa, what? 

"No! I like having you here! That's what I'm trying to tell you!" Liked it easy. Liked using him, getting his cake just so he could eat it to. Just like everyone else. Well, not this time, Blair thought as he pushed back the burning. Anyone else, but not him, not... 

"No, what you're telling me is that I'm convenient. I'm an outlet for your unwitting philanthropist side. Well, you know what? Fuck you." And then he was gone, disappeared into his room, which was now alive with vague sounds of cloth moving and drawers banging. Jim tentatively approached the door, only to be assaulted by a flying shirt. Er, vest. The same vest Blair has been wearing the day Jim had shoved him against a bookcase in his office. The first day Blair had saved his life. The first of many. Jim looked up in horror to see his partner, his Guide, stuffing a bag full of clothes. 

"Chief-" 

"Stop it, Jim. You know you've been trying to find a good excuse to get rid of me." A stab of ice shot up Jim's back. 

"That's not true!" 

"Yeah, right. The super-geek under the stairs who makes a terminal mess of everything in your life? Oh yeah, you're just tickled to have my sorry ass here every day." Sweet Goddess, and it wasn't even Blair's `Break-Out' bag that he was filling. That Jim could deal with. That at least meant Blair would be back. He'd go, clear his head like he always did, come back, and they'd be ok, or at least on their way to being ok. 

But that thing Blair was stuffing with almost clinical efficiency was his `Travel' bag. His `I'm leaving and I don't really need all my worldly possessions' bag. Jim had seen it once before when Blair was packing half-heartedly for Borneo. And this was anything but a half-hearted effort. 

"Blair-" 

"Don't." Dark. Cold. Scathing. Jim didn't think any eyes could be so, let alone Blair's. "I'll work with you at the station. I have an obligation to you, and I take it seriously. If you need me, I'll be in class until 2, then I'll meet you at the station. I have my phone if you need me." Is that what he was now? An obligation? Screw that. 

"And I'm right here if you need me." Blair pushed past him, his very full bag heavy on his shoulder. 

"Whatever." 

"I mean it!" Blair stopped short of the front door and regarded him warily. Nice to know at least `The Voice' still worked. "I don't know what the hell I did wrong here, Chief, but know this: no matter what happens, I will always be here for you. You are not alone as long as I'm here, and if you ever need anything you just say the word, and I'll be there." 

It's better this way. It's better this way. Don't look back, detach with love, it's better this way. The mantra drummed through his mind to the beat of his heart as Blair glanced one last time at the only home he'd ever left on his own. 

"See you `round, Jim." 

* * *

How does one man play chess? He must split himself in half to do so. Yet each man is born to so vile a condition, until another half completes him. 

It's been two weeks. 14 days, 6 hours, 9 minutes since Blair Sandburg walked out of my door. My life. But never my heart. Gods, this hurts. I've been alone before, but never like this. I hate to even think about it, but after Caro left I was relieved. Our marriage had been more than rough. It was a nightmare, and the end was almost as sweet as the beginning had been. 

But this is insane. That's all it is. And not him. Never him. I mean, he may be crazy now and then, but he's the most lovable crazy man I've ever known. 

And I do love him. 

And I still can't believe I did this to him, to us. He goes out on a limb for me, and I cut it out from under him. 

I've put him in so much danger. I depend on him, I love him, but he deserves so much more than a washed up cop... 

The pen fell from his hand, unheeded as he bit back the tears that he knew would mar the words still fresh. Words he never thought he'd say to anyone again. 

But Blair deserved them. Deserved more than words. 

But I don't care. I still want him. This place is a tomb without him here, and I'm just waiting to die. His smell is almost gone, and I wonder if I'll ever be able to find my way home again without it. Or will it just lead me to him? Anywhere he is is home to me. He is home to me. 

What have I done? Blair. Will I ever see you again? Will I ever feel you again? 

The pen now forgotten, he brought the worn cloth to his face, breathing in what was left of the scent the vibrantly colored vest had once dripped with. So faint, yet still there. Still him. 

Blair. Yes, Blair was a razorblade. Blair cut him open, made him clean again, carved out a place for his heart and his soul. Carved a place for them together deeper than the cold stone of Jim's temple. The one Incacha had left inside him. The one Blair had tended to every day. 

Until Jim had wronged him, fucked it all up again. 

Where Blair used to be there was a hole in his world, a hole he found himself walking around blind in during the day, and falling into at night. The darkness just wouldn't let him go. 

* * *

Blair walked along the secluded alcove in the Cascade bay, one of the only places the general public didn't really go. It was where Jim had shown Blair the sea outside the bustling harbor, and Blair had discovered the perfect sound of the ocean even in this miserably cold climate. Now he stood alone before the moonlit waters softly lapping at the jagged rocks and hard packed sands. Why did the waters calm at night, when they were so turbulent during the day? 

Blair knew, the same way he knew why his own life felt so hollow. Jim wasn't there. His energy, his spirit, his life wasn't there for the world to feed upon. For Blair to reach out and touch, to give his own life meaning. It wasn't about the dissertation. It wasn't about being his partner or his Guide. 

Blair flopped down onto the only plot of dry sand he could find, and even in the harsh night air he could still feel the sun on his face. The sun that had become blocked when Jim had rejoined him during a day of surfing. Blair had watched his Sentinel maneuver the waves, become one with the currents, skirting places Blair could only dream about. Jim had called it his own kind of meditation, and Blair didn't doubt it. Even just the sound of the water lifted and grounded him. To be a part of it, and to be a Sentinel in such a world... 

Blair curled in on himself, his knees to his chest, trying to hold on to some of that sunlight feeling. That Jim feeling. That thing that had kept Blair sane when he'd been so close to losing it altogether. Here, in the one place that had been his and Jim's, he let the tears roll down, let his heart say all it had meant to. 

So scared to be alone. Afraid to be without Jim. They'd been together so long, and yet not. Four years shouldn't feel like a lifetime. No one in the whole world knew him better, but it didn't seem to matter. Jim would never... not like Blair needed him to. 

Need. Blair had never needed anyone, not even his Gypsy mother. It felt like she'd been gone more often than she'd been around when he was young. And the bitch of it was he was more like her than he would ever admit, even to himself. Every relationship he'd ever been in had fallen away, as had every person. 

Until Jim. He'd been so determined to make Jim the subject of his thesis that he'd never noticed what he was really doing. Even from his rathole warehouse apartment, he'd been glued to Jim like white on rice from that first moment... 

Until two weeks ago, when he'd stormed out of that perfect fucking loft in a rage. Jim knew, knew of his weakness, his obsession, and he'd taken pity on the young, confused anthropology student who had a crush on him... 

No, that wasn't true. It was much worse and far simpler than that. Jim had reached out, like so many others had, and Blair had still been too chicken-shit to do what he'd always wanted. Even after all this time, he was ready at a moment's notice to leave when Jim kicked him out, as was evident by his very quick departure a fortnight ago. Not if, when. Because he always knew Jim would. Jim would eventually get tired of putting up with him, and make a huge scene of asserting dominance over the smaller man by kicking him quite royally out. 

And yet Blair had still allowed himself that one creature comfort, that one nightly moment. And when push came to shove, he'd just had to open his big mouth and let the insecurity box bust wide open. 

It was a crime. A crime that he'd been so stupid, that Jim had never noticed despite all those great Sentinel senses. Had Jim ever really wanted to assert his dominance and stake his territory, Blair would gladly have laid himself upon the altar and let him do just that. He would have let Jim do anything to him, any punishment, any price, if it meant they could stay close. He'd been so content just to be close to Jim, to be his friend, his roommate, his partner, as a cop and as a Guide. But it was obvious Jim didn't want him anymore. Jim didn't need him after all, otherwise he would have come by now. Maybe Blair had never meant that much to him? Maybe it was just a fantasy, an unrequited crush after all? 

So why was he picking up his mobile for the fifth time in two hours, ready to hit the speed dial so he wouldn't have to fumble with the numbers? And why was the phone ringing? 

* * *

The phone rang out of the silence, shaking him in a way that sound hadn't in a very long time. Since before Blair. Pre-Sandburgian time. Gods above, had it been so long ago? Jim took up the phone, suddenly angry that it had disturbed his pity party. Damn it, couldn't a man brood in peace anymore? 

"It is two a.m.! If this is some kind of crank call, I'm going to find you and-" Jim's ears automatically pried apart the background noise on the other end of the call just like Blair had taught him, finally coming to the one thing he could make out clearly besides breathing. What was that? Water. Moving, flowing, cresting. The ocean? Who the hell would be calling from the ocean? 

A single sound crashed into him like a runaway freight train. A single, soft pulse, the same one he'd used to ground his very existence so many times it had become habit. A flash of impromptu picnics and days spent surfing flashed across his mind, a single name clawing across his own hoof-beating heart. 

"Chief? Blair, is that you?" Only breath answered him, uneven, strained. Oh, sweetheart... "It is you, isn't it? Talk to me, Chief. Tell me where you are." 

"Do you remember what you said to me, Jim?" Broken, whispered. Jim's teeth ground. Where the hell was his gun? Because if someone had so much as touched a hair on that perfect head... 

"When?" 

"When I left, you said you would always be there for me if I needed you." Jim's heart did that weird sinking, jumping, `ok, everyone, the world is coming to an abrupt and immediate end, please react accordingly' thing it did whenever his Guide was in trouble. "I need you now." 

"Blair! Gods, where are-" _Click._ Nothing, the line was dead. For a second, Jim's chest seized before rationale finally kicked back over. Why that little-! 

"Hey! You can't just hang up on me, damn it!" Not that it mattered. He knew where to find him. Jim was on his feet and dressed before the map in his head outlining the shortest route was finished. He'd have to use the siren and the lights, but who the hell cared? He grabbed Blair's favorite blanket off the back of the couch before heading out the door. Blair needed him, and he would not let his best friend down again. 

* * *

The beach looked deserted as Jim screeched the truck to a halt in his usual parking spot. He noted the Volvo was there, but Blair wasn't in it. The harsh ocean spray played havoc with his sense of smell, but he didn't need it to follow the warm path of footprints in the cold sand... 

Until he saw it. The lone figure on a small patch of dry sand, huddled into it like he'd never be warm or dry again if he moved. Jim tried his best not to run, and he managed. Barely. 

The dark plaid flannel hung loosely about the thin shoulders. Thinner than they should be. Hadn't he been eating? Of course not. He never did when he threw himself into his work, but he only did that when the rest of his life was harder to deal with than his insane study/teach/dissertation school existence. And Jim had driven him to it, again. 

"Chief." He almost flinched at the sound of his name. Jim's name for him. Had it been so long since he'd heard it? So long since it made him feel so... 

"You took so long. I thought you might not come." Jim swallowed the lump in his throat. He couldn't blame Blair for not believing in him, but that didn't make it burn any less. 

"That hurts. I was pulling ninety there for a while." 

"Why didn't you come after me until now?" I couldn't. I was scared you'd push me away again, tell me when you'd pick up the rest of your stuff. I couldn't take that, can't take this. He stepped just close enough to feel the heat radiating from his friend's back. Friend. Could he even call Blair that anymore? Did Blair want him to? 

"I thought you wanted to be alone. It's why I gave you space, time to think." 

"I didn't think being alone would be like this. I can't eat or sleep or think. Never been so fucking lonely..." Lightning spiraled out from Jim's chest, making his arms go weak and his legs lock just to keep him standing. So he'd been wrong again. How could he have screwed this up, too? 

"Chief..." 

"I can't do this anymore, Jim. I used to love being alone. I was always the only person I could ever count on. I was totally self-sufficient. That was before you." 

"You know, that's awfully fucking selfish, Sandburg." Blair's face shot up, filled to the brim with anguish as it stared out over the black water. Jim bit the bullet, taking the chance he knew he'd never get again. "You left me, remember? You walked out, and left me thinking you hated me just for trying to understand something." 

"I'm so sorry, Jim. I never meant for any of this to happen. I don't want to be without you anymore!" Before the second sob fell from his friend's lips Jim was seated behind him in the sand, wrapping his long legs around the huddled form, his strong arms pulling the blanket around them both. Blair trembled in his grasp, clutching Jim's arms to him like they were all he needed to breathe. 

"You have to tell me, Chief. What do you want from me? What do I do? You know I'm not good at this stuff." Jim pressed his lips to his Guide's ear, whispered gently over the wrenching sobs. Say it, Blair. Please, just once. 

"Stay." Be the one that stays. Be the one that doesn't leave me behind. The words were ragged and stretched as they reached the Sentinel's perked ears. "Please, just stay." 

Good enough! 

"As long as you want me here. Right here, with you." Blair's head rested back against his shoulder, and Jim couldn't tell who's tears were who's anymore as they raced down his neck. Jim's arms tightened as he breathed in the real life scent of his Guide for the first time in a fortnight. Real. Blair was real, they were real, not some fanciful dream his mind and heart clung to in the night. So warm. So perfect. And nowhere near enough. 

Jim stood in one fluid motion, bringing a seemingly weightless Blair to his feet just long enough to turn him and crush him close. Those wiry arms Jim had come to lean on wrapped around him, short little nails clawing his back. Gods help him, he hoped Blair was leaving marks, just to make sure he never forgot where he belonged again. 

"Missed you so much." Hot tears and damp shirt muffled the words, but Jim didn't miss a single one. 

"Missed you too, Chief. It's not the same without you. Doesn't smell the same, doesn't sound the same. Nothing's right without you." Long fingers sank into the mass of ebony before him as he clutched Blair as close to his heart as flesh would allow. "Come home, Leabhar. Please, just come home." 

"What did you call me?" Before another thought could be had Jim was upon him, breath mingling, heat rising, his mouth being devoured by a man who gave new meaning to oral fixation. Blair's legs went limp beneath him, his very breath overridden as he was filled over and over with Jim. Tongue and teeth and pliant lips, hitting every spot just right, like he'd been doing it for years. Oh hell, why not? Jim knew everything about him. Everything now. He pulled away suddenly, and Blair whimpered at the loss. 

"I called you mine." Blair fell forward, the words wisped across his skin as that perfect mouth pressed to his forehead. He drifted into the strong bend of Jim's neck, aware somehow of the arms that held him steady, the heat of skin on skin, the hint of breath through his hair. It was official. Blair Sandburg could now die happy. His. Oh, wow... 

"I like that." 

* * *

Two hours. That's how long he'd been out here. The cars hadn't changed. Only the sky had altered, lightening to a degree only a Sentinel could perceive. Dawn was approaching, and he'd been here just that long, waiting. 

Blair was inside, reading. Jim hadn't wanted to at first, but as they'd driven home from the beach they'd said nothing, and the silence had given Jim more time than he'd really wanted to think. 

He hadn't wanted to do it at first. It had been the one thing he'd always kept to himself, always made sure no one ever touched or saw. It was his mind on paper. But no, this was a time for honesty. And Blair was going to get it. He deserved that much. The journal was the only way to really tell Blair what he thought, how he felt. It was the only way he'd ever been able to really say anything meaningful. Caro had thought it annoying and useless. If he couldn't speak, he couldn't express. 

But Blair hadn't thought so. He'd been honored, and had taken the book almost reverently, handling it as if it were something holy from one of his digs. 

And Jim had run for the balcony and stayed there, overwhelmed. No one had ever...no one but Blair. Why had he expected any different? 

Jim looked back inside for the first time, and watched the back cover of the book close. He'd heard the pages rustling with agonizing slowness, and with each one he thought a tiny bit of his mind might fry away, but no matter. It was done, and now it was Blair's turn. 

"Did you get a chance to read it?" 

"Only about half a dozen times, man." Ah yes, the analyst strikes again. 

"And what did you think?" 

"You knew." The book dropped onto the coffee table, the echo bouncing off the walls of Jim's already jangled mind. "You were awake that night, and every fucking night for that matter, and you still let me go. Why?" 

"Because as much as I wanted you to stay, I refused to trap you. I wanted you to stay because this is where you wanted to be." Boy, how many times had he written that on table napkins from cheap dinners on long stakeouts, with Blair just at his side, waiting for nothing. The eyes that stared up at him could have drawn tears from a statue of Mars. 

"But you never said anything before that night." 

"Considering how many women you've gone through since you've been here? I didn't think I had a prayer." Jim took the chance and dropped onto the couch, thankful that Blair neither flinched nor moved away. "After that night, I didn't want to scare you. I wanted to reach out and hold you so much I couldn't breathe, but you sounded so scared. I couldn't risk losing you, even if I cared for you, too." 

"I didn't want to tell you because I thought you'd hate me. That you'd kick me out and never let me back into your life. I figured if I left on my own, it wouldn't be as hard, but..." A single finger brushed his lower lip, stemming the words mid-flow. Blair leaned into the gentle touch, a kiss his only offering to the caress his skin would now crave forever. 

"Gods, what a pair we make." 

"Yeah, but a pair of what?" The play of fingertips across his cheek shouldn't have surprised him, but it did. His eyes drifted shut, sparkly shivers scampering across his skin, so he didn't see it coming. The touch was soft at first, so soft he barely felt it, but the second touch was firmer, alongside the sweetest taste of... Jim. He pushed against it a little, just to be sure, and was met with a desperate, broken sound that he recognized was coming from him. Those teasing fingers sunk deep into his hair, pushing and pulling, massaging and stroking as an agile tongue stole out to tease at his lips, asking and getting permission because right then he couldn't have denied Jim anything. Just as he thought he might drift away in the tide sweeping over him, Jim pulled back, and thank goodness Jim held on because there was no way Blair was staying upright on his own. He met Jim's gaze dreamily, shivering at the hunger he found simmering there. 

"Does that matter?" Blair grinned up into the face of the man he loved so much, and twisted his fists into the open edges of the thick flannel that hugged Jim in places Blair jealously wanted to. 

"Not at all." 

And that was how midnight found them, curled together like sated puppies in Jim's bed. Blair marveled, half asleep, that he could be so happy and still breathe, his head on Jim's shoulder. Strong fingers swept through his hair, the same that had brought him pleasures unknown before this night, sending shivers through him as he knew they would from this moment on. 

"Hey." He sounded so peaceful, like he'd always looked at night. Just the thought that he might be the cause of that contented purr ... 

"Hey yourself." A breath, a sigh. It seemed so easy now. And good gods, was he always this warm? If so, Blair was pretty sure he'd never be cold in Cascade again. 

"You ok?" Duh, Mr. Big Time Detective. 

"Better than ok." The stoking started again, right at the edge of his forehead to the base of his shoulders, sweeping through his hair every inch of the way. Oh yeah, he could get used to this. Warm, naked, curled up next the most amazing man he'd ever known, being petted. Oh yeah, life was- 

"I'm so sorry, Chief." Oh, not good. Jim's self-recrimination factor was bad enough, but if he was suddenly regretting this... 

"For what?" 

"For taking so long. For hurting you." Blair let go of the breath he'd been holding, the usually insistent internal panic dissipating. 

"Hey, I wasn't exactly forthcoming either, but that doesn't matter. We're here now, and that's all that counts." He felt more than heard the purr this time, and barely had time to revel in it as Jim shifted, Blair tucked perfected against his neck, strong arms keeping him safe. 

"Love you so much, Chief." Blair snuggled closer, ready to make a nest and never come back out. Finally, someone who wanted to keep him. 

"Love you too, big guy." 

And so it was, the final line in the sand washed away in a tide neither saw coming. Yet as sleep overtook them gently, each man took joy in the other's comfort, each an island, drawn together one wave at a time. 

* * *

End 

Oceans by Miraden: jade.dragonessa@gmail.com  
Author and story notes above.

Disclaimer: _The Sentinel_ is owned etc. by Pet Fly, Inc. These pages and the stories on them are not meant to infringe on, nor are they endorsed by, Pet Fly, Inc. and Paramount. 


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